BAMF!
by PM Anders
Summary: A modern gal thinks it's all a game and Tavington thinks she's nuts. AU/AR, HUMOR, M/F, WIP
1. Chapter 1

Lucy wasn't quite sure what kind of crack she had been smoking when she thought of taking a ride that night. There was a storm watch and, by all logic, she should have cozied up on the couch under a blanket and watched Jeopardy. Instead though, Lucy decided to go for a "night ride like they do in movies!" as she so put it and that she was feeling "restless". And off she went, on her trusty American Paint Harlow onto the trails. She could hear the soft thunder-boomers in the distance but she ignored them. Harlow wasn't so calm, with every twitch of twig and wave of branch, she broke her gait with a nervous huff. Lucy gripped the reins and urged her silly horse forward. There was nothing that was going to sway her from her goal. Did she have a goal? She wasn't so sure, she hadn't thought that far.

Dan looked at Lucy, his eyes cold like a dead fish, a mud-green duffel-bag slung over his shoulder "I'm leaving now Luce. At least you could wish me luck." Even though his eyes created the facade of uncaring, there was a pleading in his voice. He wanted her to look at him, to see him, to run up to him and kiss him goodbye. Lucy didn't though. She sat on the couch and stared at the TV. She didn't want him to see her fear or her pain. She wanted him to hate her so he wouldn't be distracted. But most of all, she was angry. Too angry for words. Dan had ignored their future and plans by re-enlisting back into the army. He had first joined right after September 11 and did two tours in Afghanistan before discharging. He told Lucy he wasn't a "lifer", he just wanted to get his little piece of revenge. He got nailed by shrapnel from an IED that killed two of his buddies and was discharged for medical purposes. He proposed to Lucy right after and they began making their home together.

"Goodbye, Dan. And Good luck." Lucy muttered still not looking at Dan. She couldn't even look at him one last time before she heard the door open and close. She couldn't believe that he'd re-enlisted or why. He offered no explanation other than that he got medical clearance and he was going to do it whether she approved or not. Now he was gone.

Gone alright. Two months after Dan had been sent to Iraq, Lucy received a phone call from his sister. She cried into the phone for ten minutes before Lucy processed the news; Dan was dead. Killed by a sniper she was told. Dan's mother had to be sedated for the funeral and his father unfairly blamed Lucy. If only Lucy had just put her foot down. If only Lucy had threatened to leave him if he went back. But Dan was an adult, all the fighting from Lucy would have done no good. Dan's father's grief made logic incomprehensible and Lucy was the easiest target. She left then, to live with her scrappy brother in South Carolina where he owned a horse farm. Sorry, ranch. It was a "working ranch" whatever that was, Buddy called it. And Buddy took his older sister in with warm hugs.

They were brother and sister but couldn't have been more different. He was tall, sandy-haired, twinkling blue eyes, tanned from the ranch days, a young twenty-six, and extremely outgoing. Lucy was short, barely five foot two, serious, and at the ripe old age of thirty-three. She had dark hair and her blue eyes were dark; Hope Diamonds her brother always called them. They held no twinkle in them, at least not now. Now she was always moody and depressed, splitting her time between riding the mare buddy had given her and vegetating on the couch.

Lucy held firmly as Harlow cantered over the trails, she ignored the warning signs of the storm. However, in the grand tradition of irony, it wasn't the impending storm that caused the accident but a raccoon. A raccoon was attempting to race from one side of the trail to the other and he failed. Harlow tripped over the little beast and stumbled to a stop sending Lucy straight over her head and into a tree. Lucy screamed but then it was lights out as if someone had unplugged a television set. She never saw if the raccoon had survived the whole ordeal.

Lucy woke up against the tree and moved a fraction before crying out in pain. Her back was killing her but that was a good sign right? Pain? She gingerly raised a hand to the back of her head and felt the wet stickiness of blood but she she eased her body up as best as she could and opened her eyes to focus. She didn't see Harlow anywhere and that damned raccoon was also MIA.

"Remind myself to kick that crappy raccoon if I ever see it again." she breathed and sat up further. It was dawn, she must have been out cold the whole night. Buddy probably wouldn't realize she was missing until later in the morning when she didn't come for breakfast. Maybe he was already outside doing his stable chores. He had fifteen horses to take care of and train, organizing a search party for his sad-sack sister would be at the very bottom of his Honey Do List.

Lucy looked around "Harlow? Harlow! Come here girl!" She called out but found herself a bit hoarse, no pun intended "Harlow! great. Just great." she sighed. Something was amiss at the moment. Even the woods looked different. The trail was gone or, at least, it wasn't as traily. Weird.

After a bit, Lucy was able to stand up and inspect herself for broken bones and cuts. She was bruised for sure, and scraped up for certain but there was nothing permanent as far as she could tell. She brushed off her jeans and made note of the small hole in her tank top. Getting the mud off seemed to be futile in effort and she wanted to get home and shower. Harlow probably went back to the farm so Lucy decided to just start walking back. When she came to the fields of the farm, there was no fence, no corrals in the distance, and no horses frolicking in the morning dew. Very weird. Had she taken a wrong trail? Couldn't have, hers was a straight shot. She put her hands on her hips and looked around, turning in circles.

"Damnit!" She swore and began to traverse the field, hoping to encounter some semblance of civilization. That she did not find, what she did find though was some sort of tent city with men wandering around in Revolutionary uniforms. Greeeaaat. Reenactors, just fantastic but maybe they had a port-o-potty she could use and perhaps a bottle of water and, better yet, a cell phone. Hooray for history nerds! Viva La Brits! As long as they knew not to tangle with a tiny brunette in a bad mood all should be well.


	2. Chapter 2

Lucy wandered into the tent city where the obvious double-takes made her take pause.

"Hello boys, I know you don't see gals much but please carry on with your role-playing or whatever it is. I come in peace." She waved towards the men. Some of whom, were in the middle of shaving or polishing muskets.

Lucy was looking one way but not forward which is why she collided into a tall body. Though that wasn't saying much, plenty of people were taller than she was. She looked up and saw a young man with curly red hair and a grimace on his weathered face "Ello miss, take a wrong turn somewhere?" His accent was heavily British, pretty good for a reenactment buff.

"Ello govenah" Lucy mocked back but she stopped when the man was clearly not amused "Never-mind, take me to your leader." She raised one hand up as if talking to Roswell dwellers. While she was busy poking fun at the man she didn't see the three others that had formed a wall behind her, their arms folded across their chests. Lucy did turn then and smiled sheepishly "Ok, maybe making fun of you wasn't the smartest thing to do. Stupid me."

None of the men smiled nor did they appear to find her annoying Rachael Ray cuteness appealing. They looked pretty damned pissed off for being distracted from whatever it was that they were doing. Clearly, these were some serious buffs. New approach.

"Listen, I fell off of my horse, hit my head, and I'm pretty sure my back is covered in blood that came from my bleeding scalp. I'm not in the mood to participate in your game, I tried being nice but..." a hand clamped over her mouth and she was pulled into the body of the redhead. She tried to speak through the hand but she stopped when hot breath hit her ear.

"Miss, we don't know exactly who sent you but we can wager that it was The Ghost. Only he would be so brazen as to send a woman into one of our camps. He is certainly misguided about our chivalry." There was a chuckle from all four men and Lucy got a sinking pit in her stomach. These were not only actors but some seriously delusional ones who'd probably get real authentic in a heartbeat. She felt a callused hand brush over her collar bone and down her arm.

"She dresses like a man but this material is odd. For riding horses mayhaps?" One voice said.

"She looks like a Spaniard with her coloring. They let their women do all sorts of immoral behaviors." another said.

"The Spanish have no quarral here with us right now. Why would they align themselves with the Ghost?

"Perhaps she is not with the Ghost."

"That's for the Colonel to decide."

Lucy had closed her eyes so she had no faces with the voices. She just knew that if they were planning anything nefarious, they'd have one hell of a fight on their hands.

"Gentlemen. What are you doing?" a richly accented voice sounded out. Deep and masculine and terrifying. The arms let Lucy go and she stumbled into the center of the circle of men. She turned and looked at whose voice caused her freedom.

At first, he seemed unimpressive. Barely six feet tall and wearing a British uniform, though clearly he was in charge. He had non-descript brown hair tied back but it was his eyes where the real impression was. They were blue as the sky and cold as a glacier. He was handsome in that older British actor way like Alan Rickman or Gary Oldman. Those blue icicles slid over Lucy and she almost shrunk back. This was a hard man. The kind you read about in Jane Austen books, not to be trifled with nor to be underestimated but Lucy was betting that this man was no hidden romantic behind a visor of cool. He'd kill you and use your bones to make furniture with. Lovely. Lucy was unsure of her next move. Her first impulse was to run but when she eyed the pistol-thing on the hip of this man, she rethought that maneuver. She'd seen enough movies to know that you couldn't outrun an aimed bullet even it was from a muzzle-loader.

"Where are you from, girl?" He asked sternly not taking his eyes off her face.

"Here. I'm from here. I was out riding my horse and I was thrown. A raccoon." Lucy muttered.

The man smirked "You were thrown by a raccoon? You are small, my dear, but not that small."

Great, a sarcastic. Lucy hated sarcastics "No. A raccoon caused my horse to throw me. I hit a tree." She raised her hand up and touched her head. She showed bloodied fingers to the man "see?"

An elegant eyebrow raised and he sighed "Take her to the medical tent, clean her up, and bring her to my tent for interrogation."

"Interrogation? Now wait just a minute, you jerk. You will certainly not be interrogating me. Let me go back to find my home or I will call the cops on you!" Lucy wailed. Instant regret when a sword flew out from a holster and landed on her should, the blade aimed at her neck.

"That will be quite enough. You will do as you are told or I will cut that irritating head from your body. Am I clear?" There was no waiver in his tone. Nothing to suggest he was anything but serious.

These were some seriously geeked out guys.


	3. Chapter 3

I realized that my disclaimer is not on the first chapter. I do not claim or own any part of the movie The Patriot. Only the original characters are my own and I seek no monitary gain from this story.

If Lucy had had to pee at that moment, she would have all over her pants. She could feel that cold steel blade grazing her neck and when the colonel sheathed it lucy swore she felt the first layer of skin get shaved away. This man was no joke and perhaps she should keep her opinions to herself until she was cleaned up, watered, and set free. Lucy knew that enthusiasts often lived in the moment one hundred percent but these guys went above and beyond, it frightened her. Her body eased from the tension of her fear and shock that the colonel's reaction to her very obvious protestation caused. She watched as the man turned and strutted away, disappearing inside a tent leaving her with the four thugs that harassed her before his interruption. She looked up at them and smiled awkwardly, they were still not amused nor impressed by her public displays of aggression.

"If you could please show me where the medical place is..." She was getting dragged by two of the men. Literally dragged so fast her feet couldn't balance and she put up no fuss. Well, she didn't have time to put up a fuss before she was shoved into a foul smelling tent. Lucy stood there and processed her surroundings. There were two tables, one with some sort of blanket on it and another half covered by a curtain hanging from the tent poles. There was a large pot with steaming water, some tools haphazardly tossed into the liquid. On an end table there were some clean(ish) tools and, dear god!, was that a bone saw? Lucy's stomach turned and she looked everywhere but at that particular object until her eyes swung towards the other table and she now noticed the brownish stains in the wood. Lucy felt weak and the urge to vomit, her knees gave out but arms caught her. It was then that she felt a pain shoot through her torso like someone was poking at her with a hot iron. She cried out.

"Hold on. It will hurt for a moment while we get you to the table." a calm voice stated as she was aided to the not-horrifying table. She eased up onto the table and sat grimacing. That had really hurt "It appears that you may have a couple of broken ribs." The man then lifted up Lucy's tank top before she could protest and she yelped in pain as fingers prodded her ribs "Indeed, you have discoloration and swelling on your ribs."

"No kidding." Lucy stated through gaspy whispers.

"You were thrown from your horse is what I was told?" He noted her nod "You're lucky to be alive, miss."

Lucy got a look at the "doctor". He couldn't have been more than twenty-one, this was so not right; she needed a real doctor with real pain meds and not a creepy bone saw for removing septic appendages. Before she could speak, her shirt was being sliced from her body.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" Lucy protested.

"I have to examine you. What is this contraption?" The doc said as he tugged at Lucy's bra.

That was it for Lucy. These men were taking this too far, now they're pretending that they've never seen bras? Maybe they hadn't but seriously? Lucy tried to scramble off the table but she squealed in pain and landed with a nice OOMPH onto her ass. She sat here full of chagrin and considered throwing an outright temper tantrum. The doctor kneeled down and looked at her face.

"I'm sorry, miss. I mean you no harm. I am a young physician but I'm what we have. I'll do my best to treat you."

Lucy, for an instant, felt sorry for this kid. She nodded her head and agreed to be hoisted back onto the table. The doctor left her bra alone and wrapped material tightly around her rib cage. He examined her head wound, placed a couple of extremely painful stitches into her scalp and poured alcohol over every single open scrape and cut she had. He also allowed Lucy to use hot water and a cloth to wash herself up with and gave her a cup of cold water to drink. He then handed her some sort of tunic shirt, a man's shirt to wear in place of the one he destroyed. Before she exited the tent to be escorted to the colonel's tent, she turned and looked at the kid.

"Thank you. For everything." She smiled and to her surprise, he smiled back.

Lucy was led back to the colonel's tent not dragged this time, probably because Doogie Howser had warned them not to due to her ribs. They didn't look too happy that they couldn't abuse her. They flung open the flaps of the tent and waited for Lucy to enter, once she did the flaps closed and she was left alone with the colonel. He stood behind a large table that held a map. There were little figurines on the map, like the game of Risk.

"Come closer." The voice commanded and Lucy obeyed because she didn't want to get gutted like a fish with that shiny sword of his. "I see you have been tended to."

"Look. I don't know what you guys are playing at..." Interrupted by a harsh shoosh.

"You think this is a game? This is far from a game. We are in the middle of a war and everyone is suspect. I have to ensure that you are not a spy for the colonial resistance." He stated without pausing to breathe. Lucy decided that she was just going to play along. These men were obviously way too into their little world and she wanted to walk out of it alive with all her parts still attached to her body. Even as ridiculous as all this was.

"Fine. What do you want to know?"

The colonel stepped out from around his table with his hands locked behind his back. It was a decidedly Mr. Darcy maneuver. He paced and circled Lucy, she could feel those chilling eyes on herself.

"Who sent you?"

"No one. I live here. I've told you that." Lucy knew that she would have to create a character of her own in order to get out of this tent with her head. She remembered the observations of the colonel's men "I'm a Spaniard."

"From Florida, I presume? Where is your family?"

"Dead. I am all that is left." She lied.

The colonel crossed in front of her and locked those eyes onto her face. He had long eyelashes Lucy noticed and they grazed the very tops of his cheekbones when he blinked or lowered them to look lower than her face.

"How does one so small and lovely survive the journey from Florida to South Carolina?"

"I had my methods." Lucy was searching her mind for past history lessons "Ladies have ways of accomplishing such feats." She spoke as properly as she could and she was probably failing. Lucy was known for her mouth and she could get super trailer-park when she wanted too, especially during karaoke.

The colonel smirked "No. Ladies cannot but whores certainly can."

A whore? Niiice. Not the angle Lucy was going for but what the heck, it's not like she was a virgin or anything "you figured me out. I'm a whore. Peddling my wares to the highest bidder." she was being sarcastic but sarcasm is often lost on the sarcastics...or something.

The colonel moved closer to her and made a disdainful sniff "I suspected as much. Girls that dress as you do are not respectable." He turned and paced away from Lucy. She was boiling inside but she kept her focus on his sword and gun. She kept her focus on the fact that this man would take that sword and cut her in half, after he plundered "her wares" if he even was remotely interested in said wares.

"Can I go now? Being as it is established that I am just a useless slut and not a spy?"

The colonel snapped back at her, his eyes glistening in the sunlight that trickled through the slats of the tent "Leave? Absolutely not. No. We need all the help we can get on our journeys. No. You will go and assist the young physician. His nurse has recently died from a fever."

Lucy felt her heart sink. She did not want to play this game. If she had wanted to reenact battles of the days of yore and live a primitive life, she would joined one of those WarCraft groups where people form countries and beat each other with foam weapons. This was so not her cup of tea but she was also still scared of that sword. She knew that the colonel was still uneasy about her intentions at this camp and he wanted her under his thumb. Play his stupid battle games and maybe she'll get a cookie and cold beer when this was all over. Maybe she'd even kick this man where it counts for being a general jack ass.

Lucy backed out of the tent and the colonel kept his eyes locked on her form.


	4. Chapter 4

Lucy began working with the "doctor" that day. She was doing all kinds of disgusting things like pitching out buckets of vomit and cleaning bloody needles. She hated this stuff, she didn't even like watching medical dramas. Blood and guts grossed her out and there were plenty of both to make her nauseous. The only consolation was that Brandon(Doogie) was a really nice kid. He was so eager to do well and he genuinely loved practicing medicine. Not that this was medicine in Lucy's eyes. It was so primitive. Why didn't this kid just go to medical school instead of wasting time with these history weirdos? Lucy also noticed that Brandon was acting kind of funny around her, stealing glances at her breasts and neck. Finally Lucy had to address this issue.

"You keep staring at me and it's awkward."

Brandon blushed "I'm sorry but I have never been around a.." He hushed "lady of the night."

"Oh. Well now you are around one and you can see that I'm not so different from other ladies, right?"

Blush again "Oh no. You are different. You are more like a man than a woman." Ouch?

"Why? How are the ladies you know so different?"

"Well, they would never wear man's clothing for starters. And true ladies stay out of the sun. Tanned skin is the sign of the working class."

Lucy snorted "I am working class and so are you. Not all ladies are upper-class bunnies with pale skin and dainty shoes." Did she really use the word dainty?

The look on Brandon's face was incredulous "Come again?"

"Never mind. I may be different but I am happy with who I am."

This seemed to pacify Brandon so that they could continue to do their work through the day. When night fell upon the land, Lucy wondered about where she would be sleeping and would it be where she could escape from the camp during the night. She was sad to learn that her bed would be the examining table in the medical tent. Scratch that, she chose this over the alternative; Redheaded thug had offered her a place to sleep, next to him in his tent. Absolutely not. She was not going to risk injuring her ribs further just so that some bratty soldier could get into her knickers. And the thought did cross her mind and it was the ribs that made the decision. It had been a long time since Lucy had gotten any. A very long time and being around this many men made it harder than she thought. If she wasn't injured, she probably would have gone super slut with the whole camp. It would improve her mood. Instead Lucy lay on her wooden slab and thought about the past few months of her life. Dan's death, moving in with Buddy, her ability to live put on hold. Maybe hanging around this big group of nerds was exactly what she needed. She needed a real break from the real world. A serious attitude adjustment was in order. Maybe she'd even avoid further contact with that nasty colonel Tavington, she learned his name was William Tavington. Lucy's eyes drifted closed and she was out like a light.

Like a light indeed because as soon as her eyes closed she was being awakened by Brandon.

"We have to pack up. The camp is moving. The colonel has possibly located a group of colonist traitors."

Lucy rubbed her eyes and swung her legs over the edge of the table "Good morning to you too."

Brandon frowned "No time for niceties. We have to get moving. The colonel is intolerant of lateness."

Lucy and Brandon packed up the tent and all it's supplies onto a long wagon. The two tables were hauled up and placed on their tops, legs in the air and more stuff was piled on. The soldiers were on their horses, wearing red coats and green feathery hats.

"Green Dragoons. The deadliest of all the King's forces. Led by the Butcher." Brandon told Lucy as he helped her up onto the wagon seat next to himself. As he did this, Colonel Tavington rode beside them on a giant chestnut stallion. His green hat was bigger than the others. He simply glared at Lucy before pulling his horse up to the lead.

"Butcher eh? I can see that."

Brandon laughed uneasily and reined his horses forward, they were off to who-knows-where to do who-knows-what. Every once in a while, Tavington would slow his horse next to the wagon and stare Lucy down. She kept her eyes downcast and forward much like you would do with an aggressive dog. She noticed that Brandon did the same thing, clearly the men were afraid of Tavington. While he certainly was intimidating, he was still just a fallible man right? Surely he had a conscience and a soul. She inquired about this to Brandon. He told her hushed stories of how Tavington had no qualms about shooting children and burning women alive. Lucy knew this was all just part and parcel of the game and character. Obviously, someone couldn't just murder innocent people and get away with it. Not in this day and age. It was still disturbing in that people thought that deeply into these things and created such monstrous avatars to portray. Lucy no longer felt bad for pretending to be a whore from Florida at this point. It could be worse, she could be playing a psychopath in a bad hat.


	5. Chapter 5

Lucy must have nodded off at some point during her travels on the wagon because she awoke, abruptly, when shots were fired out. Brandon slowed the horses down and told Lucy to get down in the back in case they were being ambushed by the colonial forces. Lucy had remembered from history class that they had practiced a form of guerilla warfare; so she assumed that other reenactors were hiding in the woods ready to pounce upon the British caravan. More shots were fired and Lucy watched a number of mounted soldiers race up towards the front from behind, their horses leaving a big cloud of dust; of which, Lucy promptly couched on. She peeked her head up and tried to make out any of the action but she couldn't. All she could do was hear the squirmish, some shots, some yelling, and a couple of screams. The screams got louder as the rest of the frenzied noise died down, Lucy tried to plug her ears to drown out the screams, she hated hearing the sounds of men screaming, especially during battles. It made her think of how much pain Dan might have been in. But this was supposed to be fake, right? Why would men make such realistic and blood-curdling noises when it was simply a game?

Lucy felt a strong arm tug on hers, she looked up into the chilled eyes of Colonel Tavington. He was still on his horse and Brandon was not on the wagon any longer.

"Come with me. We need your assistance up at the front." his hand tightened on her upper arm.

"Are you crazy? I don't know how to shoot!" Lucy hissed but when Tavington's gripped tightened and she yelped, she regretted getting sassy. She forgot, these head geeks are always the most enthusiastic and he probably couldn't have cared less if she knew the rules or not, she was going to get dragged into it kicking and screaming.

His eyes narrowed "No, you stupid girl, we need you up front to tend to the wounded." His voice was tight and demanding. Lucy stared at Tavington's face and accidently allowed herself to drift into his eyes. She must have been making one helluva dumb face because the colonel became angry and snatched her from the wagon. Struggling, Lucy was hoisted under Tavington's arm and he cantered to the front lines. Lucy cries were futile.

The gal was dropped onto her duffet, a cloud of dirt billowing around her. She glared up at the colonel who merely smirked at her from atop his mount before he rode off. Brandon came over and helped Lucy to her feet, he was covered in blood, paint rather. It had to be paint or whatever they used in these types of situations. Lucy was being led by Brandon through a throng of soldiers who were milling around, some were looking into the woods watching for the enemy forces.

Lucy walked over to a crying man laying on the ground, his shin appeared to be completely shattered and bloody. Bone was splintering out of the skin and there was a gaping hole with blood pouring from it. It looked completely real as did the man's tears. There was so much blood.

Brandon shoved at Lucy "I need you to get the men to start a fire, we are going to have to cauterize this wound in order for him to survive until we reach an area to set up the tents."

Lucy stopped, her mouth agape "Wait. What do you mean cauterize? Do you mean burn him?"

"Yes. To stop the bleeding. He's been shot in the lower leg. see?" Brandon urged her eyes back to the bleeding man's injury.

"Shot? you mean with real bullets?" Her eyes widened with horror "What kind of game is this? You actually shoot each other?"

Brandon looked at Lucy incredulously "Game? This isn't a game Miss Lucy. This is a war and this man has been shot in the leg. Now we cannot waste anymore time with this nonsense. Get a fire started!"

Lucy backed up, her eyes burning with tears. This was going way too far. These people were shooting each other so they could be as authentic as possible. She turned and smacked into Redhead "Fire"

"What miss?"

"Fire. The doctor needs a fire." She backed up and continued to do so, shaking her head.

The soldier nodded in agreement "Of course. We will get on it straight away." he turned and rallied a few other men to help him.

Lucy backed up and then turned into a dead run down the road and into the woods. She found a trail, albeit a narrow dirt one, but a trail nonetheless. She ran down the trail until her lungs burned and she slowed to a walk. She veered off into a clearing in the woods and slumped on the ground against a tree. She hated trees right now but she hated these reenactors more. Brandon was nice enough until he wanted to play with fire against one of his friends. Lucy dragged her legs up against her chest and slumped her elbows down onto her knees, dragging her hands through her hair. She could feel the tears burning in the corners of her eyes but she tried to hold them at bay. What good was crying? She hadn't cried when she got injured, she hadn't cried when she couldn't find her way home, she hadn't cried when Mister Haughty-Pants-on-His-Horse dumped her on her keester. Why now?


	6. Chapter 6

Buddy knelt by the tree and dragged his finger through the liquid puddling at the base. His finger came up redddish-brown and he waved it at the fat deputy who, unprofessionally, chowed down on a donut.

"See?" Buddy proclaimed loudly and grimaced as he watched donut particles fall down the front of the Deputy Darrell's shirt.

"See what?" Darrell humphed.

"This is blood."

Darrell squinted at the finger before finishing off his donut. "Speculation. That could just be tree sap" Why the deputy insisted on portraying such a stereotype was beyond Buddy's comprehension. All he did was reinforce this notion that all southern cops were just fat, lazy, rednecks who ate all day instead of doing their jobs.

"This is blood. Lucy's blood. She's missing and hurt" Buddy stood up and jammed the grimy finger into Darrell's face just inches from his eyeball. Darrell was not amused.

"Speculation. She has to be missing for forty-eight hours to be considered missing. That's procedure."

"Procedure my ass! I know my sister and she wouldn't run off like this, especially when injured." Buddy's voice waivered with a strange mixture of annoyance and amusement.

The deputy huffed and put his hands on his hips "I done told you a million times. She ain't missing until forty-eight hours."

Buddy put his hands on his hips "And I done told you that she doesn't need to be missing for 48 hours for me to consider her missing. And, damnit, this is her blood! Harlow must have thrown her."

The deputy chuckled "Oh now yer really speculating. First she's missing, now she's missing, injured, and from a horse fall. I think you found your calling in crime-scene investigation, Agent Scully."

"Mulder" Buddy muttered.

"What?" Darrell squinted his eyes closer if that was humanly possible.

"I'd be Mulder because he was the male character. Scully was the chick."

Darrell chuckled again "Naw, I think I was right the first time."

Buddy stomped past the portly officer "Real cute, Deputy. Real cute".

Buddy started up the path back to his ranch. He knew in his heart that Lucy was somewhere hurt. Possibly in the hands of someone bad. When the mare had been wandering the perimeter of the paddock that morning, Buddy knew something was terribly wrong. It had been confirmed by not finding his sister anywhere on the property. Where the heck did she go? Unfortunately, Deputy Stupid was not planning on taking this very seriously until that forty-eight hour reached its mark. At least, not until this very moment.

"Yer sister was depressed wasn't she?"

Buddy stopped and looked sternly at the deputy "She was sad, yeah, her fiance was killed in Iraq recently. What are you suggesting? That she killed herself?

Darrell rubbed his forehead "I ain't saying she did. But if she were sad enough, maybe we ought to be searching the creek around the Cry-baby bridge instead of arguing out here in the woods."

Buddy looked down at the ground and got a pit in his chest "She wasn't that sad. I know my sister better than anyone. She'd have asked for help. She'd have come to me. She wouldn't have done anything like that" Buddy declared and his bottom lip shook.

For once, Darrell looked serious "Listen Buddy, tomorrow morning, if she ain't turned up yet...we'll get a search party together and check out all the usual suicide spots. The bridge, the railroad tracks, the old well on the Burkins property, we'll even scour the woods for a hanging. Again, I ain't said she offed herself but it's better safe than sorry".

Buddy sighed deeply "alright. I suppose we can wait until then. She'll probably turn up. Maybe she's at the bar or something. I'll probably get a call from Nancy tonight to come and pick her drunk ass up". With that said the two men walked back to Buddy's ranch together.


	7. Chapter 7

Lucy heard hoof beats coming down the path that she had run through. It hadn't been much of a path but she didn't exactly go running into the untreaded woods either. She shot up against the tree and but her lower lip. There was only one person on a horse that would waste time chasing her into the woods. The colonel. She listened to beats and gauged their distance; and she bolted from the tree deeper into the on cue, just like a bimbo in a horror movie, she tripped. Her mouth slammed against a tree root as her body hit the ground. Her jaw and lip hurt like hell, as did her ribs, but she got up anyways and tried to run again. She didn't get very far before the hoof beats closed in on her and she felt a body crash into her, arms entangling, and knocking her against a tree. The heavy male body pinning her, hot breath on her battered face. She could feel the stitches on the back of her head reopening; oozing. If Lucy hadn't known she was in the woods, she'd have sworn that the birds she heard singing were from being knocked senseless. Lucy straightened her head the best she could and barely met the ice-blue eyes of Colonel Tavington. His face bore the expression of all business. He backed off just enough so that Lucy's much smaller frame slid down the tree trunk.

"Just where did you think you were going?" Tavington hissed.

Lucy tried to speak, her lip was really split and she could feel her cheekbone swelling "I told you that I didn't want to play your game. I just want to go home" she felt a tear well into the corner of her eye.

"I thought that I was very clear that this is not a game" his voice held a deadly edge that was unnerving. However, Lucy was not to be licked yet. Like she was going to let some enthusiastic role-playing dork push her around, no matter how gorgeous his eyes were.

Lucy raised her knee up quickly and nailed Tavington where it counted, she then punched him in the face. As he dropped to the ground in that wussy male way, Lucy made her break for it. She ran, painfully, but she ran faster than she'd ever run in her life. She ran without tripping this time and took a mental moment to pride herself on that. She leaped over branches and tangled foliage. She didn't hear the horse behind her and that was a good sign. There was a clearing up ahead and, by golly, a road! Dirt of course, but still a road. She smiled as she neared it.

She was tackled from behind and landed with an oomph on the ground. Tavington had caught up to her like Michael Myers in the Halloween movies. How did villains do that? Was there a secret short cut somewhere for bad guys? Tavington snatched her hair and jerked her head up and back.

"First offense: desertion. Second offense: assaulting a king's soldier" He growled into her ear. He sat on her rump which prevented her from getting up and his obnoxious hair-grabbing prevented her from being able to retaliate with any swings "the penalty for both those infractions is death" another growl.

Lucy mustered all the energy she could "Fuck...you!" she stated matter-of-factly. She barely felt the blade slice across her throat but she let out a scream when she felt the choking blood pour warm and swiftly from the wound. Her scream was warbled by the gaping wound and blood but she continued to do so even as her vision dimmed.

Lucy sat up screaming not noticing the rush of nurses into the room and blaring noise of upset monitors. She was pushed back down into the bed by strong hands and she felt a rush of calm. She looked up weakly and saw a nurse injecting something into the IV tube that went into her arm. That felt nice. So very nice. She didn't fall asleep but she became blissfully aware that she wasn't dead in the forest. She was in a clean, modern hospital being pumped with pleasant drugs. She was safe. She heard the nurses talking.

"This is the first conscious response she's made since she was brought in."

"That's a good sign. Hopefully she'll just improve from here on out."

"Did they ever find out her name?"

"Yeah. Lucy Fiorentino. She's from New Jersey but she lives with her brother here. He's been called. Apparently, he'd already involved the police when she disappeared."

"Fiorentino. Is that Italian?" The nurse pronounced the _Is_ with with a long _I_ sound. Lucy hated that.

"I guess. What gets my goat is why can't these folks simply call the hospital before they bother the sheriff. Those boys have enough to do around here without all these nuisance calls."

Lucy was apparently a nuisance. Lovely. She fell asleep shortly after that.

Buddy ran into the hospital knocking some hapless intern out of the way and slamming himself up against the nurses station.

"Lucy. My sister Lucy Fiorentino. She's here?"

The nurse behind the desk sighed and looked at the chart in front of her. She hummed slightly, as if to aggravate Buddy, while she looked at the names and clicked her pen.

"Lucy! Her name is Lucy!" Buddy huffed which earned him a glare from the nurse.

"Hold your chickens, son. I'm looking."

Buddy drew a deep breath "Jesus H. Christ, lady!" and he snatched the clipboard from her and saw Lucy's name and room number "was that so damned hard?" He smacked the clipboard down and took off down the hall. The nurse would have protested but the phone rang.

Buddy ran to the room and flung open the curtain and his breath stopped "Nurse! Nurse!" he screamed. He jumped back out into the hallway screaming for the nurses. They came running over and all of them stopped.

Lucy's bed was empty. The IV lay on the bed and the monitors snored away showing no signs of disruption. Buddy turned to the nurses with a very angry look on his young face.

"I was told she was here."

One nurse with short red hair looked at Buddy with wild confusion "She was here! She was plum right here!" There was nothing but honesty on her face. Buddy threw his arms up into the air.

"Well she's plum not here anymore, is she? You better plum find her!"

Lucy awoke on something hard. Her eyes adjusted to the candlelit darkness. Her face hurt, her back hurt, her head hurt, and her neck hurt. She tried to cry out but a soft voice came near her.

"Shh miss. You will reopen the stitches." It was Brandon, the doctor. But how? She was just in a hospital. A real hospital. She tried to speak but a finger touched her swollen lips "I don't know how you survived. Perhaps he intended you to. The cut was not very deep. Deliberately so, I suspect. You have lost a fair amount of blood and you have a many more wounds than you arrived with originally. You will heal though, it shall be my personal mission."

Lucy felt tears fall down her face as she looked at the young doctor. He was so sweet. Too sweet for this terrible environment. He barely knew her and he was devoting himself to her complete recovery. If she could, she would have given him a hug. A real hug. The kind that makes you feel extra warm and fuzzy. The kind that is so close, two hearts can feel each other beating. Brandon deserved that much. Lucy felt something close over her nose and mouth. A strong smell overwhelmed her and, like a television that was unplugged, lights out.

Brandon felt Lucy's body go limp on the table and he pulled a wool blanket over her battered form. Seeing that both the colonel's nose was bleeding and that he slit her throat, he knew that she'd put up a fight. Good for her. Someone needed to stand up to the Butcher. However, hopefully Lucy will have learned to pick her battles more wisely. Tavington was not likely to be so forgiving next time. He was never this forgiving in the past. There was something about this strange, pretty woman that had stumbled into their world that even Tavington couldn't deny.


	8. Chapter 8

Lucy woke up when light hit her in the eyes. She felt like she had slept for weeks. Her face didn't hurt so much anymore and neither did her neck. She sat up, rather, tried to sit up. Strong arms grabbed her under hers and gave her balance. She turned her eyes up to meet Brandon's.

"Good morning, Miss Lucy" he smiled. Lucy smiled as best she could, her face still feeling tight "I hope you aren't too angry but I kept you pretty well out for several days while your body healed. It also kept the colonel at bey."

Lucy tried to speak. Fortunately, there was little pain but her voice was soft and gravelly "days?" she put her hand to her forehead.

Brandon smiled again "It's God's great miracle that any sound comes out at all. I still cannot believe that you are not only alive but able to speak."

Lucy touched the bandage on her neck that covered the stitches. How was she still alive? She felt the knife, felt the blood, choked on the blood. This didn't seem logical or possible in the least. Maybe she was dead. This was her afterlife; trapped in eternity with the man who killed her. The kindly doctor handed her a tin cup of broth which she drank carefully though her stomach demanded three large pizzas and a couple of two-liters of cola.

The hours passed into days as Lucy got better, she even began helping Brandon with his patients again. To her odd delight, the colonel came down with an illness. It was just a common cold but these guys acted like it was the plague. The colonel was treated with kid gloves and everyone panicked. Men were such cry-babies. Lucy also thought of her poor brother who was probably out of his mind. Or maybe he just declared her dead and moved on. Not likely, he loved her too much and Lucy did wish she could see him again. However, she was afraid. Afraid that like the hospital, she would get teased with a taste of her real life and get ripped from it again. She couldn't bear that again. Lucy had also finally convinced herself that this was not a game. Somehow, she had ended up back in the seventeen hundreds smack in the middle of the brutal revolutionary war. She knew that her country had won and that was a solace. She was annoyed that her situation did not currently allow her to flee to the colonial side. She wanted to meet this man that the Redcoats called The Ghost. He sounded like a hoot. As she got a little better, she noticed that some of the men began getting a little more fresh with her than she preferred. Especially, Redhead, whom she learned was actually named Thomas. He had a bit of a crush, Lucy suspected. His offers of _"sharing his bed"_ came more frequently.

One evening, Lucy was told by Brandon to do the most odious of duties; she had to bring Tavington his nightly medicine. Yuck. She walked carefully in the dusk, balancing a tray across her hands. She hated the cumbersome dress that she was given along with the strange underthings that looked like something that small boys used to wear swimming. Her bra had disappeared and she wasn't so sure about the new drafts she was feeling. She approached the colonel's tent and stepped aside when a soldier exited. Her looked over her and continued walking. It was tough being the only woman around these parts. She opened the curtain and stepped into the candle-lit space. Tavington was sitting at a makeshift desk, writing. He was wearing his boots, pants, and his white shirt mostly unbuttoned. His hair was down too and it was, gasp, curly. Long and curly. Lucy had only seen it up in a tight ponytail. Color had come back to his face since last she'd seen him. The medicine must be working. She found though that her hands shook as she recounted the last time her and the colonel were alone. He'd banged her up and tried to kill her. Did kill her, Lucy was certain. She was afraid but more angry than anything. She would have loved nothing more than to jump across the table and bash his handsome face into that table top. Then she'd shave his head and choke him with his hair. Still, she remembered Brandon and his small request to be polite and meek and bidding.

"Sir?" she muttered, her voice still soft and weak.

Tavington's eyes lifted to meet hers and she breathed deeply. They never ceased to shock her in their sheer beauty. In the candle light, they were positively mesmerizing and they were aimed right at her. If he noticed the change in her pulse he didn't acknowledge it. He looked back down at his work and continued writing.

"You may bring my medicine here. I won't bite you."

Lucy stepped closer and held the tray towards the colonel. An elegant hand reached up and took the glass of brown liquid. After a swig, he set the glass back on the tray and started writing again.

"If you wonder if I regret what I did to you, the answer is no. If anything, my slitting your throat has made your presence more tolerable in that your annoying voice has been quite, shall we say, fixed?" There was a tinge of amusement in his words that caused a shudder to go down Lucy's spine. She felt her eyes narrow as she stared at Tavington. She couldn't believe that he would say this to her. She turned quickly and made haste back to the medical tent.

As Lucy was walking, fast, she accidentally bumped into Redhead Thomas. He smiled. Lucy thought he was good looking. He was and she couldn't understand why she was being so darned resistant. Sure, they had gotten off to a rough start with him being all revolutionary 'hood with her and all. But, he was starting to grow on Lucy and her libido. She knew her ribs were better and her stitches were nearly ready to come out. Lucy felt those big hands come to rest on her upper arms. The touch made her shudder on so many levels.

"I know that I keep inquiring and that you will, most likely, tell me no...again but will you please do me the honor of your company this eve? his hands began to move up to her neck "I will be gentle".

Well, gee, who could argue with that? Lucy smiled and nodded with a shrug. _Why the hell not? Take me to your tent where all your dreams will come true!_ Well, that's what Lucy thought anyway, all she could actually muster was a "sure". And she accompanied a very smiley Redhead Thomas to his tent.

The next morning, Lucy did something she hadn't done in a long time. The walk of shame. She crept from the soldier's tent just before sunrise carrying her shoes and looking a mess. What she didn't also bank on was Tavington walking right out in front of her, heading somewhere coincidentally. He saw her exit the tent and try to scurry away. Lucy saw him and stopped. The two stared at each other like a wolf and a rabbit. Tavington raked those eyes up and down Lucy's body noting the disheveled hair, the state of wardrobe malfunctions, and the flush of a good ride. Lucy merely blinked at him. The man finally spoke.

"Tell Doctor Brandon that we are leaving at dawn. There is a plantation a half a day's travel that I am procuring for our particular settlement. It's time to get my men into proper beds and out of tents." He then walked off into the yawning darkness.

That was an odd moment of humanity and Lucy wasn't sure if she was emotionally prepared for this man to be remotely human yet. She skittered back to the medical tent and woke up Brandon so that they could get packing for travel.


End file.
